Reviews from 2000

2000 Reviews (A-O)

Note: These reviews have been alphabetized for ease of reference. This is not the order in which they were originally published, so cross references (such as “above,” “below,” etc.) may no longer apply. Also, cross references may be to a review in another file, as I split this into two sections, A-O and R-W.

Aarktica - No Solace in Sleep (Silber Records)

Guitarist Jon De Rosa's previous recordings with NYC chamber pop group Flare, indie folk ensemble Dead Leaves Rising and his high school goth/folk/acoustic solo material as Fade left me ill-prepared for the ambient, droney, cinematic soundscapes of his latest sonic explorations as Aarktica. In 1998, Jon started this project "as an experiment in sound to recreate and convey the tones heard through one deaf ear." Originally nothing more than "tape-hiss lullabies lacking structure composed through a blur of painkillers and insomnia on a 4-track cassette recorder," Aarktica graduated to these multi-layered, effects-laden, post-Eno ambient guitar suites in a little less than a year! Imagine a greatest hits mix tape consisting of the best of Windy & Carl, Stars of the Lid, Labradford and early Azusa Plane and you're on the right track. And while De Rosa has said, "there's a certain charm to the spontaneity of drone music," he was quick to add, "I also find that that can take away from its overall credibility." This release is his attempt at marrying the two approaches. "While recording the album, I actually spent days mapping out many pieces, notating them and treating each piece like I would a string quartet." Let's examine the results of that endeavor.

A few minutes into the opener, "Glacia" and you may find yourself adjusting the volume to find out whether you've just puchased a blank CD! Whispering waves of sonic molasses drip out of your speakers as De Rosa replicates the ambience of an iceberg floating through the midnight Atlantic: dark, cold and immense. "Indie" has nothing to do with a subgenre of music and everything to do with pain, although the two are often indistinguishable these days! The far off sound of a beating (ear)drum (his own?) places us squarely in his world of frustration with the inability to clearly "hear" the sounds of civilization around him. This sense of swimming in quicksand coupled with the sonic interpretation of the "sounds in his head" continues through most of the record and is emphasized in titles like "You Have Cured A Million Ghosts from Roaming in My Head," "The Ice (Feels Three Feet Thick Between Us)" and "I Remember Life Above the Surface." The seemingly pretentious titles can be overlooked as one is enveloped in the sheer expanse of the sonic sensual overload. The aural equivalent of syrup dripping down a "short stack" is interrupted by the Nick Drake-ish "Welcome Home." Fittingly, it seems to be a self-directed imperative and is the lone track with a clearly identifiable guitar. De Rosa has escaped from his "fantastic voyage" through his inner ear, but I, for one, was glad to be along for the ride. You will be, too.

Abunai! – "Deep Mu Flux" EP (Camera Obscura)

These guys are fast becoming the most exciting psychedelic quartet in New England. Massachusetts' Abunai! (exclamation point required!) weigh in with this limited edition (100 copies) lathe-cut 10" which serves the dual purpose of introducing a new sonic direction without overburdening the listener with overindulgent studio wankery. These three tracks (totalling just under 15 minutes) abandon their previous pop/psych leanings that, while enjoyable, tended to blur into indistinguishable monotony. Indications that something was afoot were presented on Abunai!'s previous, somewhat gimmicky release, The Mystic River Sound, also on CamOb. In an effort to present their kitchen sink approach to what was, admittedly, an overabundance of stylistic influences, the boys took on the personas of fake bands and released a faux compilation of the mythical Mystic River (non)scene. Pop, blues, skronk, stoner rock and classic 60s West Coast psychedelia were on tap in what proved to be a surprisingly cohesive collection that held up through repeated listens. This time around, Abunai! try their hands (and heads) at instrumental jams which bear more than a passing resemblance to the classic period of krautrock that continues to fascinate today's hallucination generation. They effectively avoid the pitfall of merely releasing studio practice tapes, which all too often deteriorate into annoying, boring Grateful Dead tuning sessions.

The tracks are edited from obviously longer pieces, as they all fade in and out, thus avoiding the tendency in these type of releases to overstay their welcome. The difference, here, that is worth noting is that the pieces are still allowed room to breathe (inhale, if you will) and develop a distinguishable mood and tone that was not sacrificed in the editing room. A full-length is due any day now and if this is an indication of what we can expect, that will definitely be my most anticipated release of the year.

Round Wound (Camera Obscura)

Unfortunately, all good things don't come to those who wait. The Pastichenjammer Kids are at it again on this, their third full length on Camera Obscura. When last we visited, the pride of Brighton, Mass. were assuming the guises of a dozen different bands to resurrect the lost art of the Mystic River Sound. Tearing a page from The Turtles playbook, this faux compilation allowed Abunai! to introduce us to their many different influences, while gamely attempting to avoid the criticism of being too disparate, directionless and unfocused. That it worked was a tribute to their ability to pull off a myriad of styles with equal aplomb. Many bands feel at home exploring pop, psych, blues and skronk, but most seem to settle into one area and focus their energies on the style they feel most comfortable with – the style that best represents their "true" sound. One area left uncovered on their previous outing was their penchant for jamming and opening up their sound to let their muses take them, unbridled, into unchartered territory. Keyboardist Kris Thompson described the project to me recently, "I think that the intent was to take the best passages from our favorite casually self-recorded improvs of the past few years and weave them together into a more-consistent whole, with an element of flow. Round Wound is the result and its success hinges on one's ability to accept this format as a viable alternative to the traditional concept of an album as a series of structured, pre-planned "songs."

About a decade ago, Bob Bralove assembled excerpts from various Grateful Dead jams (ostensibly, the lengthy freeform freakouts their songs invariable deteriorated into) and released an album called Infrared Roses. This Gysin-esque cut-up technique is replicated again with essentailly the same results. The lengthier excerpts fare better because there is time to develop a focal point for the listener to grab onto. The weaker segments are merely fillers (used here as segues between tracks) which fail on principal because they bear little resemblance to the tracks they bridge. As a result, they interrupt, rather than compliment, the flow of the album.

Which is not to suggest, however, that the experiment is without merit. Kris Thompson's theremin flourishes (he's also a member of the theremin-based Lothars) and Dan Parmenter's fluid basslines highlight "Time of the Funk-Lords" and the "head"y scepter of Hawkwind and Can fills the room in "Bwow Winds!"

The album's centerpiece, the 13 minute psych extravaganza "Drowning in Light" is a particularly coherent slice of krautpsych dimentia which demonstrates that, once they've attained liftoff and hit their stride, Abunai! can be one of the most exciting psychedelic jam bands in operation today. Clouds of the Floyd and Amon Duul comingle with Spacious Mind and Salamander until an acid reign of terror doses our heroes with the antideluvian ephemora of one of the more successful, spacier interludes, "Anti-Twilight Arch" and Thompson's keyboards once again recall the melodic tinkling of early Sonic Boom/Spectrum and guitarist Brendan Quinn finally demonstrates those monstrous riffs so evident on earlier releases on the following title track. Not to be outdone, drummer Joe Turner shreds his drumkit to introduce "LT.TOP.HVY.BTM" (a titular tip of the dome to Floyd's "Pow R Toc H?") which floats into the Dead territory that much of this release emulates with surprising acumen and competence.

Next up, they proceed to kick out the jams (pun intended) by donning "Motorcycle Boots" and kicking the shit out of their instruments with the album's heaviest track. Turner's drumming is particularly ferocious over bassist Dan Parmenter's ominous bassline and Quinn's distorted FX and fancy fretwork bleeds white light and white heat while Thompson's synth solo cuts through the grey matter with surgical precision. Wisely abandoning the interludes, "Rolling of the Stones" picks up the baton and runs into Chameleons' territory with their trademark crystal clear guitar soloing rising above the psychedelic stew bubbling asunder.

A brief braincheck to smell the roses and gather our senses, "Electric Reynolds" meanders softly amidst rambling keyboard trills and Quinn searching for a riff to carry us forward. Thompson's haunted house organgrinding adds another ominous dimension to "Genetic Epidemic," but Parmenter is left unsuccessfully trawling for a melody and the track meekly goes the way of too many of these excerpts – directionlessly (and recklessly) abandoned. "Buzz Bombb" brings up the rear with what seems to be the only fully realized "song" in attendance, i.e., it has a beginning, a middle and an end – in that order!

So, to recap: fans of Hawkwind, Floyd, krautrock's heavier proponents Can and Amon Duul and today's looser psych outfits like Spacious Mind, Cul De Sac and Salamander will find a lot to explore and devour within. Deadheads whose brains have been Phish-fried will also want to sample the heady wares. I would have preferred a little more attention be paid to the linking elements (rather than using jams from "other jams") to more seemlessly bridge the lengthier pieces. It would also have been tighter if fewer (but lengthier) jam excerpts were used. The kitchen sink approach worked last time because each song stood on its own as a complete entity. This time, merely stringing together "high"-lights of several practice sessions leaves this listener searching for a road map or, to borrow a quote from The Chameleons' debut, "just what is the script of this bridge?" There's an old comedy routine where a bunch of old time comedians were so tired of recounting the same jokes over and over that they resorted to just telling the punchlines. By feeding us the jams without the songs, Abunai! have delivered the punchlines without the setups. Hopefully, next time they'll spend more time on the jokes.

Alchemysts – Zero Zen (Woronzow/Rubrick)

The power trio from Somerset, England's fourth release finds them mining the same Stooges/MC5 territory previously explored on 1998s Here & Now. A few years of live performances (most memorably at the Terrastock festivals) later, they've honed their snarl and swaggered their staggers into a tighter, more structured chaos and the result is their strongest release yet. Some vintage Stones' riffs ("Psychic Fayre," "Time Travel for the Lonely") and late night Doorsy cruisin' for a bruisin' groovin' ("Glass Cars," the instrumental "Your Summer Ghosts") have been added to their bag of trips, yielding a more varied and mature work. Oh, the shell of Iggy's former being still hovers over tracks like "Electromagnetic North" and MC Tyner comes to roost at the "Black Hole Kickout," but the Plan 9-meets-Stooges with wah-wah vibrators on the prowl that is "Gone" finds the Ig-ster cowering in the corner lifting his jaw off the floor and beats both bands at their own game. As if that's not enough, "Rocket 69" illustrates what it might sound like if Al Jourgenson called Gibby Haynes a pussy-whipped pansy and lived to shout about it.

A cute, little keyboard/sitar-based pop tune ("Spores") lightens the proceedings, paving the way for the tale of the "first man to smoke marijuana on the moon," "Achievement Song." Over the bassline lifted from Hawkwind's "Time We Left the World Today" (fitting in light of the lyrics), guitarist Paul Simmons emulates David Peel's ode to nature's finest herbal remedy and gives new meaning to the term "power puff girls" (and boys!) The stage is now set for Alchemysts' finest recording to date, "Antidote." Paul actually recalls Radiohead's finest moment (i.e., Pable Honey) sans Thom Yorke's incessant whining and nice flourishes like backward guitars, wah-wah phasing and Jon Guard's crotch-tingling bass add up to the closest thing to a hit single the Woronzow stable has produced that doesn't have Nick Saloman's name on it.

Arab Strap – Kangaroo Shoe (Jet Set)

First, the good news: Aidan is still Aidan, i.e., his delivery is still a cross between Cohen on cough syrup and MacGowan on Quaaludes AFTER a few sixpacks and the pace still wouldn't give a Tortoise a run for its money. If, like me, these were the qualities that endeared you to their debut, the groundwork has been laid out for another relaxing Summer's evening swinging in the hammock in the backyard, wafting the forsythias and hoisting a few cold ones. However, a minute or two into the lead off track, "Cherubs" and you all of a sudden notice this infernal racket – this rat-a-tat Raven rapping in your ear like a friend "hunt and peck" typing a term paper at about 10 words a minute. Imagine the frustration of popping a Stars of the Lid disk into the player only to have your next door neighbor decide to start building a bird house in his driveway. Nearly ¾ of the tracks are splattered with this annoying hammering and before long, all you can concentrate on is this incessant percussive tap-tap-tap-tap way up front in the mix, relegating Aiden's? drunken tales of debauchery and love's lost labors to some indiscernable nocturnal mumbling. Now you're really pissed, because you feel like a stranger listening in on some far off conversation – you catch snippets that convince you something is happening, but goddammit, you don't know what it is…. Too bad, for the tunes are more focused and melodic this time around, correcting the major flaw of the debut where Aidan's rambling stream of consciousness wore thin after the third or fourth track and the rest of the band, unfortunately, went down the wrong road with him. Here's a perfect example of an album crying out for the "remix" treatment – only scratch that damn percussion track off and let the songs up for air every once in a while.

As is: 6 out of 10.

Remixed minus the percussion: 9 out of 10.

Bardo Pond – "Slab" EP (Self released private pressing)

If Abunai! reflects everything that is exciting about the possibilities presented with the EP format (see "Deep Mu Flux" above), Philadelphia's Bardo Pond present the flip side of the coin with this interminable mush of noise and excrement from the proverbial fly on the studio wall. I must confess that I've enjoyed each of the Pond's post-Avanita releases less and less and the downhill slide continues with this questionable offering. Magnanimous as it may be to offer some exclusive, new "material" through their fan club, it is not necessary to go through the rehearsal tapes and splice a few sounds together, press up the results and put them up for sale to an unsuspecting contituency. Fans can be a wonderful thing, but fan-atics who will stop at nothing (whilst buying EVERYTHING) can do more harm than good to a band's reputation. Doubtless, the fans' clamor for more material prompted this "slab" of garbage, but once it gets out into the mainstream and the casual (as opposed to obsessive) fan gets ahold of it, the artist is opened to all kinds of what would have been unnecessary scrutiny. It would, therefore, be inappropriate for me to pass this off as simply a "fan club special" and be done with it. Rock criticism, I believe, has to take into account everything an artist chooses to sanction as an "official" release (bootlegs are, of course an entirely different matter), thus open season is declared on anything the artist gives the official seal of approval to.

Vocalist/somnambulist Isobella Sollenberger has been rightly criticized on recent releases and live performances for stumbling/mumbling her way through nonsense "lyrics" and indistinguishable mutterings and here she reaches an alltime zenith of incoherence. One could apologetically argue that these ramblings closely approximate the effects of overindulgence of psychotropic ingestion and suggest one merely sit back and "feel the flow." But there comes a time when a lead vocalist has to be called on the carpet to justify their inclusion in a band. After all, many of today's best artists have virtually abandoned vocals altogether (Cerberus Shoal, Tarentel, Windy & Carl, Stars of the Lid, Labradford, Tortoise, etc.) It's no longer sufficient to simply stick a microphone in someone's hand or prominently display "pretty" window dressing at a live gig and call it a day. Unless they can bring something qualitative to the table, a friend, lover, spouse, neighbor, what-have-you should be left behind when it comes to actually recording and/or touring. The Bardos have always focused on psychedelic, jamming meanderings, be it via titular releases or collaborations with Roy Montgomery (see below) as Hash Jar Tempo. The difference between this and Abunai!'s offering (see "Deep Mu Flux" above) is the latter's ability of knowing when to "say when" and the knowledge and good sense to at least have the decency to edit the material into a meaningful addition to their catalogue. The Bardos, unfortunately, have succombed to the same problem that I found with Galbraith's Cry (discussed below), namely: the failure to realise that snippets, excerpts, rough sketches and half-baked ideas are no excuse for a new release. A few years ago, Roy Montgomery was asked to comment on his Hash Jar Tempo collaboration with Bardo Pond and he said it was "good pot smoking music." As much as it pains me to go against my libertarian tendencies in this regard, the time has come to put my foot down and respectfully request the Bardos "just say no." At least make the effort to review the material you're releasing and think beyond the purple haze under which it was created. Timothy Leary once said words to the effect that he never wrote under the influence of LSD or marijuana because the results, upon further investigation and editing were the mere ramblings of a madman – unintelligble blather that no one in their right mind (!) would ever conceive of unleashing on his followers for fear of being laughed out of the room and, thereafter, never taken seriously. Bardo Pond should take this to heart next time they light up and start rolling tape.

Belle & Sebastian - Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like A Peasant (Matador)

Fourth verse, same as the first. Easy one, here. If you liked the first three, .... Nothing much has changed for this Scottish septet: the same luxurious arrangements (including nine, count 'em [I did] NINE violinists!], same twee vocals, same ol' depressing tales of woe. Many of the songs sound like they borrow melodies and whatnot from previous releases, a sort of deja vu all over again, but what the hey? The Ramones played the same songs over and over again for 20+ years and they're still as fresh as the first time out.

I like the fact that Stuart let the girls sing more tunes this time out. "Waiting for the Moon To Rise" is the best St. Etienne track they never recorded and this feminine element breaks up a little of the monotony of (bed)sitting through Stu's typically wan tales. All in all, if you like this sort of stuff, which I do, this is one of the better releases of the first half of the year. Perfect for swinging in the hammock on a cool summer afternoon, sipping "martunies" and swaying in the breeze.

Bevis Frond – Valedictory Songs (Woronzow)

Speaking of the master, Nick has enlisted the assistance of his live show bandmates Ade Shaw (bass) and Andy Ward (drums) for this, the 19th Bevis Frond release and seventh consecutive (studio) multi-album set. Last spring, hot on the heels of North Circular (3xLPs) and Vavona Burr (2xLPs), I asked Nick about the sudden influx of new material (five albums worth in a little over 18 months plus writing credits on over half of Mary Lou Lord's Got No Shadow) and he told me it was the result of a particularly productive period of inspiration. In fact, several of the NC tracks rolled over to VB and by the time that one was completed, he had enough left over for another double album. Valedictory Songs is the result and it bears the hallmark of creative burnout tempered with sensory overload. A seven album box set of new material in a little under 3 years is an unimaginable and unreleasable proposition (GBV and Psychic TV aside!), so splitting the proceeds across a few releases is commendable. Unfortunately, by the time we get to side 13, even the staunchest fan's patience has been stretched beyond the legal limit and the brain simply shuts down. For the past decade, each new Bevis Frond release has been met with new thesaurus-rattling superlatives and another cry in the wilderness for the masses to get off their asses and take notice of the new guitar hero in town. One adjective that has never crossed my lips in this regard is "boring." Until now.

It's not that VS doesn't have its fair share of rockers (it does, but almost all of them are confined to the first album) or fail to deliver the usual lyrical finesse that Nick has never been given enough credit for (ditto.) It's just that, this time, Nick has cluttered up the offerings with more ballads (!) than on seemingly all his previous releases combined – over half the 17 tracks (including ¾ of the second album) would make Barry Manilow salivate. Gone are the memorable melodies I wake up each morning humming in the shower; hidden are the wonderful "spot the influence" guitar riffs and nowhere to be found are the refreshing guitar breaks that Nick is more than capable of unleashing.

The album begins promising enough with the bluesy pop of "Godsent" (complete with its bowel-rattling falsetto chorus,) followed by the organ based "By the Water's Edge" (with its slightly jarring overdubbed guitar solo at the end and the whimsical, flowery pop harmonies of "Early Riser," one of the album's highlights and pick-to-click debut single (if such primitive marketing teasers still existed.)

"Let Them Beautify You"'s kitchen sink intro erupts into a hard driving rocker, propelled by Andy Ward's manic timekeeping on the skins. The album's first (and best) ballad, "High On A Downer" ventures into Genesis territory as Nick regales us with the depressing tale of unrequited love as a piano gently tugs our heartstrings. The short guitar solo, nicked from "Witchita Lineman," adds to the Webb-like arrangement of this tune, which would be #1 with a bullet if Phil Collins ever got wind of it. Thus ends Side 1 and the prognosis is promising.

The sitar-like riff of "Artillery Row" adds to the increasing body of Frondom that incorporates familiar tunes into their poppier songs. Another stone cold classic. "We Are the Dead" reminds me of Texas band Cotton Mather's "Vegetable Row." Nick is an acknowledged fan pf their Britpop (6Ts style) and has played this track on his Radio Bevis DJ gig for KFJC-FM in Los Altos Hills, California, so incorporating the riff into one of his own tunes is understandable. Besides, it's a right corker, to boot! "Portabello Man" delivers another side of Nick's underrated lyrical acumen with the tale of an old 60s burnout whose bones have been discovered under the old Portabello Road. A clever way of pondering what future archaeologists will think if they tried to reconstruct ancient history (London in the 6Ts) based on the superficial trappings of the Portabello Man, the heads' answer to Jeremy Piltdown. Wrapping up the first album, "Can't Feel It" finds Nick inquisitively wondering if his recent "Stateside deal" (with Rubric Records?) to distribute his Woronzow label's catalogue is all it's cracked up to be: a new 10 city tour, a new record deal, the smell of the greasepaint, the roar of the crowd….Is this what it's all about, he ponders, while falling asleep to one of the myriad "melancholic tapes" Woronzow hopefuls keep dropping in his mailbox. Stepping aside to let mate Bari Watts (of Outskirts of Infinity, an early Woronzow signing who released the now-rare Lord of the Skies back in '88) rip through the blistering fade out solo may provide an insight towards his inclinations in this matter.

If Bevis Frond had stoped here, we'd have a nice addition to their impressive catalogue, comparable to mid-period, overlooked treasures It Just Is and London Stone or the more recent Superseeder. But never one to leave well enough alone (for better or worse), Saloman & Co. push the envelope with the disappointing second album in the set. Unencumbered by the rockers, pop masterpieces and memorable melodies from the first album, the second volume is weighed down with perhaps more ballads than all the other Frond albums combined. I can't get over the feeling that we (and Nick) would have been better off if these were either left in the can or saved for future releases. Lumping them all together brings Valedictory Songs down a few notches, quality-wise. I've always been curious about an artist's sequencing choices when they have a multi-volume set ready for release. Typically, the releases are top heavy with the more accessible tracks – the weaker, more experimental tracks often relegated to side 4 or 6. This helps the listener avoid having to get up and skip tracks throughout the set and, more often than not, results in a crackerjack single volume set and a call for banning multi-volume ego trips. Bevis Frond's recent multi-volume sets have all benefited from consistent quality warranting the multi-set treatment. Now, however, I think we would have been better served by just the first album. Instead, taking the set as a whole, rather than ranking alongside the previously mentioned goodies, this one drops down into the unenviable company of Bevis' weakest release, Any Gas Faster and the less said about that one, the better.

The Dandy Warhols - Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia (Capitol)

Three years in the making, this follow-up to my co-favorite release of 1997 (Come Down) is up for honors again this year - as the most disappointing release of 2000! The opening trilogy is promising enough, picking up right where Come Down left off, literally, as "Godless" recycles enough Come Down riffs to make one think it was recorded at the same sessions, "Mohammed" beckons back to the predecessor's mellower tracks, adding a smooth Middle Easter vibe to the proceedings and "Nietzche" reawakens the beast with its "Holiday"-meets-"Boys Better"-on-'ludes riffage. The bombastic, swirling feedback and arena rock drumming will surely please the baggy-pantsed knapsack set, although the lyrics leave a lot to be desired. Sample (essentially, the only) lyric: "I wanna girl who's tasted, not wasted." Or, is that "stays dead, not wasted?" No matter. Like the opening track to John Lydon's Public Image Limited debut, one is lead to believe you're in safe, familiar territory and everything will proceed as anticipated, based on previous releases. However, as also with P.I.L., you'd be wrong!

OK, so much for Courtney's (who inexplicably double-hyphenates his surname, i.e., Taylor-Taylor) library. Let's check out his record collection. Well, he's got some Beck ("Country Leaver,"), some Iggy ("Solid,") some Beck-meets-Lou Reed filtered through Neil & Crazy ("Horse Pills,") some Beatles ("Cool Scene") and some Brit pop ("Shakin'" sounds like Iggy singing Blur's "Song #2" while Elastica rips off The Strangler's "Connected" once again (or was that the other way around!?) Other tracks find our hero nodding off to "Sleep" (no pun intended, although it does accomplish its task: a lullabye for the working class, I drifted off halfway through) and beating a hasty retreat through the Bible Belt ("The Gospel.")

The highlight(s), however, come courtesy Brian Jonestown Massacre front man Anton Newcomb's participation (in two part harmony, no less!) on "Get Off" (complete with Morricon-ian "hoo hahs" over several of his trademark spag western soundtrack cine-dramatics) and the Stones-y "Bohemian Like You." Anton certainly taught Courtney a few tricks & licks he copped from the Jones-era bad boys of rocknroll. It's at least nice to know their faux(?) feud is over (for now), as the two bands compliment each other nicely as two of the leading lights of what we snickeringly refer to here at Vinyl Junkie Central as "corporate alt/indie rock!" Radio friendly ear candy for the undiscriminating un-intelligencia, i.e., the kids'll just love it!

Alastair Galbraith – Cry (Emperor Norton)

New Zealand guitarist/violinist Galbraith first enjoyed widespread recognition in this country following his appearance at Terrastock II in San Francisco in 1998. An EP ("Rivulets") on Australian imprint Camera Obscura and a full length (Mirrorworks) on Emperor Norton solidified his reputation as one of the foremost practitioners of freaky fretwork and experimental guitar explorations. Unfortunately, Cry does nothing to ellaborate or extend the magical musical mystery tour expounded on those earlier releases. Mirrorworks, which included all but one of the "Rivulets" tracks, was disorienting in its compilation of short bursts of violin skronk and backwards masked guitar scrapings. At times, reminiscent of Bernard Herrmann's Psycho score, it was a difficult listen and nigh impossible to get through in one sitting. Comparisons to Guided by Voices abound in its frustrating habit at finding a marvelous little riff and then abandoning it almost immediately, rather than building a proper "song" around it. Cry continues in this vein, with song lengths varying from under 30 seconds to over 8 minutes. The listener is, therefore, confronted with a series of "ideas" rather than "songs" and this unsettling presentation detracts from the overall work.

As he also did on Mirrorworks, Galbraith tries out some of his poetry readings here, which at times sound like he's reading unfinished chapters from his version of The Great Kiwi Novel. There are a few tracks which have memorable little melodies and softer, more structured musical themes, but these tend to be the shorter pieces – almost as if Galbraith had a great little sound bouncing around in his head, but didn't know what to do with it. As such, too much of this release sounds unfinished and it leaves this listener with the overall impression of a work in progress. There is a new movement afoot from the folks over at Rhino to reissue classic albums in the annals of rock and roll in ridiculously detailed, multi volume CD sets. Some examples in this Rhino Handmade series include 4xCD sets of The Stooges' Fun House and The Monkees' Headquarters. Everything down to the most rudimentary burps and farts and bottom of the barrel studio floor scrapings have been vacuumed up for conspicuous consumption by overeager fans. The concept is laudable, especially if one of your favorite albums is presented for microscopic inspection. The idea, presumably, is to put you in the studio with these musicians to experience first-hand, "the making of" such and such an album. The unfortunate aftermath is that the listener is forced to sit through way too much of these abbreviated takes, alternate endings, studio banter, idealogical musical discussions, etc. in an effort to finally arrive at the finished product. In this regard, Cry's ultimate damnation is that too much of what we have here falls into the "outtake" variety and not very much of it actually sounds "finished." What is also not too promising is that I'm not so sure I'd want to sit through 3 more volumes of these sessions in order to unearth the final product of what Galbraith was trying to deliver. A very disappointing release.

Perhaps the lesson to be learned here is that we have developed this little concept of the EP for a reason. Granted, in some cases it's merely a teaser for a forthcoming full-length; but it can also serve as a vehicle for releasing material that doesn't warrant (or simply can't maintain) the full-length treatment. With only about 15 minutes or so of this release falling into the "repeat listen" category and the fact that it's only about a half hour in length anyway, every indication suggests that Mr. Galbraith should focus future efforts on this viable alternative or, spend more time polishing up what he deems a "finished" product.

In Gowan Ring – Compendium 1994-2000 (Blue Sanct)

A career spanning retrospective with a few unreleased and forthcoming teasers, Compendium is more of an introduction to one of wyrdfolk's best kept secrets as opposed to a "best of" compilation. A pair of tracks from each of IGAs three full lengths is augmented with a dozen samples from works in progress, including a couple of live tracks. No less than two dozen merrymakers (all identified in the liners) have passed through the ranks of B'Eirth's panegyrical recreation of the collective spirits imbued within the works of Gryphon, Incredible String Band, early Simon & Garfunkle, Dr. Strangely Strange, et. al. Along with Timothy Renner (discussed below), America is blessed with the twin Pied Pipers of the new tradition of acid drenched, acoustic folk music frequently refered to as wyrdfolk (a term which, I believe, Renner coined to describe the style of music….) Being relatively new to the IGA canon (my virginity sacrificed to last year's brilliant The Glinting Spade,) I have spent months scouring the net to secure their earlier releases. So this is certainly a welcome addition to my collection and an incentive to continue the good fight.

Of course, two tracks is no way to judge the value of the parent release, but there is enough mystery and stylistical differences across the first three releases to suggest that the acorn hasn't fallen too far from the tree, so chances are if you have one or two of them you may want to investigate the other(s). Beginning in inverse chronological order with a pair of tracks from the aforementioned Glinting Spade ("To Thrum A Glassy Stem" and the epic, 13 minute "Cipher's String on the Tree in the Dream of the Queen"), Compendium introduces us to B'Eirth's elaborate update of Gryphon's traditional early British folklore seen through the eyes of Wednesday Morning/Sounds of Silence-era Simon & Garfunkle. In fact, he also covers their "PSR&T," presented here in one of its original forms under the title "The One True Love."

The Twin Trees is represented by its title track, a jazzy, cigarette-soaked film noir vibe reminiscent of Badalamenti's "Backwards Talking Man" theme from Twin Peaks (whom we shall meet again below) highlighted by John Bean's contrabass and the 10-minute "By Moss Strand and Waterspathe." [Obviously, the titles play almost as key a roll as the music itself in this little niche of folk music!] Rippling water, vibrating bowls and chanting nymphs, sprites, elves, trolls and other in"Hobbit"ants of the woods wander through B'Eirths imagination and spill out of your speakers, showering us with Tinkerbell's faeriedust and bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh-iment. Imagine Tolkkein stumbling upon Macbeth's witches aiding Shel Silverstein in writing their theme song (as further interpreted by Marianne Faithfull on Broken English.)

Love Charms is represented by "A Swan Song" and "Dandelion Wine," the latter featured in the In Stone Gowan Breath Ring collaboration between B'Eirth and Timothy that had heads a-noddin' and beards a-strokin' at the Showbox in Seattle at Terrastock 4. The former is especially eerie and is greatly abetted by Celise Kalke's sonorous and ominously funereal viola flourishes.

A rousing, mead-sodden rendition of "Fifteen Men On A Deadman's Chest" highlights the selections from the forthcoming BlueSanct/HandEye Mizpah Chapel, but "Urn and Dreambox" begins the descent into madness that is Pscikadilik Psyrkuz II & I. On this, and the subsequent four-part "Nap Lap Suite," B'Eirth and his druggy, drunken druids burp, drool, snore, scuffle, stumble and otherwise hobnob with Gethsemane's goblins of gloom until all parties involved pass over into Van Winkledom. "With A Kiss or Candle" is little more than heavy breathing, culminating in the titular candle being kissed goodnight. "The Black One," recorded in front of an energetic class of elementary school younguns reminds me of Dave Cousins exercise in futility under similar circumstances on "Thank You" from Bursting At the Seams. Here, B'Eirth, Annabel Lee (I kid you not!) and Michael Moynihan gamely attempt to relate the surreal fairytale (from Bergman's “Seventh Seal”) of a (dead) black fish scurrying along the shoreline, but, in a classic case of "getting lost in the translation," the kids seem more amused by the theatricality of the performance and the tale eventually fizzles out, unresolved. It's a nice idea to try and relieve the seriousness of the subject matter and its accompanying presentation by illustrating the lighter side of IGA, but the whole exercise comes across like a "career day" from hell. I've no idea if one of the participants' offspring attends Ainsworth Elementary School, but, ultimately, that alone would be the only justification for this track's inclusion.

The set ends with a foreshadowing of a third volume in the Psycik Psyrkuz saga, "The Wize Erd and His Dream." This fares much better. For starters, it's an actual song, not a series of sound effects and it features a very Frond-esque solo hovering in the nether regions of your headphones. The vibe is more akin to the Glinting Spade material, so it appears B'Eirth has left his Gong bongers behind to wrestle with the first two volumes and returned to his strengths. So, overall, a very earthy (in a Roy Harper sort of way) overview of In Gowan Ring is presented with an excellent selection of material to assist the completist in exploring further purchases. I may be passing on the Psyrkuz material, but the straightforward, folk acoustic explorations of Never Never Land exhibited on the first three albums are on my shopping list this Christmas and this generally excellent compendium should be on yours.

The Lothars – Oscillate My Metallic Sonatas (Wobbly Music)

Thinking the title might be a euphemistically PC way of saying "put a double liplock on my fuckstick," I approached The Lothars' sophomore effort with optimistic anticipation and am pleased to report that the second time's the charm for these Terrastock vets from Massachusetts. "Four theremins, one guitar and all heart" is their motto (I kinda like "Lothar and the No Hands People" myself), only this time their collective hearts are in the music and not on their sleeves. The difficulty I had with their Camera Obscura debut from a few years back is that it suffered from the same "Gee, let's see what happens if I move my arm THIS way" antics of their namesakes. Those darn boxes make great sounds, but The Lothars weren't exactly approaching Rockmore territory in taming them (granted, no one does!) However, with a few appearances at Terrastock and around town under their belts, they've got those puppies a-howling like banshees. There's even a gosh darn "pop" song on here, fer crissake! ("The Trot") The three lengthy titular "sonatas" (cudos to Dean Stiglitz on "ambient" theremin) wouldn't be out of place on any of the recent spate of excellent "atmospheric soundscape" releases by the likes of Labradford, Windy & Carl, Stars of the Lid, et. al. and several ("Bleep-Bloop" being a standout) are straight out of 50s sci-fi soundtrack heaven. The only quibble this time is with the relentless (and endless) 20 minute closer "The Feudal Resistance" which more than lives up to its name (it's pretty darn "futile!") Electronic musique concrete in all its overindulgent glory. Otherwise, Halloween's approaching, so move the speakers outside, crank this sucker up to 10 and scare the shit outta those little brats!

Roy Montgomery – The Allegory of Hearing (Drunken Fish)

Lock Robert Smith and Robin Guthrie up in a room and force Vini Reilly to give them guitar lessons (go ahead, I double dare you with sugar on top) and the results might just approach this latest gift from one of New Zealand's finest guiterrorists. Another T'stock vet, Roy's eagerly anticipated latest release has been a hot topic on some of the discussion lists lately, and with good reason. Here, he elects to shun his (admittedly wanting vocals) and concentrate on what he does best – strum the ever-livin' shit out of his Rickenbacker 450 12-string, Teisco 6-string and Alexis Quadraverb GT (the guy's a master on stuff I can't even pronounce, let alone play; spoken like a true air-guitar geek from way back!) Although the liners are impossible to read in the dark (where this is best experienced), a cursory, afterglow perusal reveals that it is somewhat of a concept guitar album (what a concept!) about Irish immigrant Richard Henry's ill-fated attempt to rescue hundreds of indiginous birds from extinction. Much of the sound is similar in vibe to Smith's (also ill-fated) soundtrack to "Carnage Visors," with lots of time spent in the lower registers, especially on the opener, "Ex Cathedra" and the very Cure-ish "Sounding the Abyss."

The occasional Guthrie wash (eg., "From A Promontory") and the Reilly flourishes throughout (particularly on the closing "Above All Compassion") lift it far above the mundane, however, and Terrastock attendees will be pleased to know that Roy has reworked his "Resolution Island Suite" from T2 into the disk's centerpiece. (One minor quibble: once again, Roy is the victim (as he was on the last Hash Jar Tempo collaboration with Bardo Pond) of an indexing problem. Darren Mock at Drunken Fish was kind enough to fill in the gap: track 5 on the CD ("I Hear You Mocking" – hmmm, a pun at Darren's expense!?) does not appear in the booklet. So fans and all you fellow DJs out there should remember to adjust the song titles from "Where the Belltower Once Stood" down one track to correspond to the CD for your playlist entries (i.e., "Belltower" is actually track 6.) But don't let that prevent you from experiencing one of our finest practitioners of improvisational guitar histrionics at the top of his game.

Olivia Tremor Control – Presents: Singles and Beyond (Kindercore)
"John Peel Sessions" EP - Private release

Rumours abound that one of the 90s finest bands has called it a ("giant") day, so it is with great disappointment that I'm here to report that their swansong is neither "new," nor very good. The good news is that completists will finally have an opportunity to trace the Olivia's career and fill in all the gaps in their collections via this compilation of singles, b-sides, comp appearances, etc. The bad news is, well, this release. Kicking off with the Guided by Voices on a bad beer day sounding "Love Athena," S&B runs the gamut of their many EPs, one-off singles and compilation appearances, including the seminal "California Demise" and "The Giant Day" EPs in their entirety. Also available is their contribution to the out of print live bonus disk that accompanied the commemorative Terrastock issue of Ptolemaic Terrascope ("Collage #1") as well as the very first OTC track I ever heard, "The Ships" from PTs benefit CD Succour. (I've had a few quibbles with some things on their previous disks, but the atrocious and inexcusable errors in the liner notes to "Collage #1" bear particular finger pointing and name calling: first, the magazine is not called "Pterrascope;" second, the track was not recorded in San Francisco (it was from T1 in Providence, RI) and, third, it was certainly not recorded in 1994 (try '97.) The main problem I have with this release is one of frustration. The Olivias have written some of the finest orchestrated, hook-laden pop songs of the last decade ("Define A Transparent Dream" and "Hideaway" come immediately to mind), but they also have a penchant for being annoyingly coy and trite in a "wink, wink…nudge nudge, get it? No? Tough!" sort of way. The worst examples of this reside in the horrible The Late Music release by their alter-egos (emphasis on the latter), Black Swan Network.

Too much of that experiment in obfuscation was weighed down in snippets of studio wankery, half-baked ideas going nowhere and a kitchen sink approach that resulted in any object (musical, handmade and otherwise) that made a sound being recorded and preserved.

These singles are cut from that same cloth. Instead of buried treasures and enlightening insights into the formative strokes that would eventually develop into the fully realised meisterwerks, Dusk at Cubist Castle and Black Foliage, we get a roadmap to how (and why) the Black Swan Network ever existed in the first place. "Christmas with William S." is an all-too-obvious homage to his and Gyson's cut-up practice: the poorly executed "edits" in the track call attention to themselves rather then blend into a surrealistic, new musical language (as Burroughs and Gyson accomplished with their juxtaposition of words into a new "language.")

If the tales are true and OTC has effectively splintered into The Frosted Ambassador (Will Hart) and The Sunshine Fix (everyone else), their legacy was ill-served by their final two releases, the disastrous "Peel Sessions" (see below) and this "greatest misses" collection.

"John Peel Sessions" EP

Originally planned as one of those "collector's item" goodies sold only at the band's merch table at the back of the clubs, this 3 song (plus "hidden track" – more about that in a moment) EP was recorded for their 3/18/97 appearance, but has only just now become available to the general public. If you've never caught the Olivia's in action, this little teaser will give you an idea of what to expect when their travelling circus comes rolling through your town. Opening with a little ditty off the "Giant Day" 7" EP (Drug Racer, 1996), "I'm Not Feeling Human," our heroes quickly catch the listener's ear with one of their trademark High Llamas-meets-The Beatles "pop" tunes. The bulk of the rest of this release focuses on two suites, appropriately entitled "Suite One" and "Suite Two" and it is here that the fun (or frustration, depending on your point of view) begins. The Olivias are known for the little segues that they incorporate into their full lengths (and have even released an entire LPs worth under the pseudononymous Black Swan Network monikor) and these tracks nicely corral bits and pieces from the "Giant Day" EP and their then-current Dusk At Cubist Castle full length debut and hogtie them into two relatively coherent, lengthy workouts that seemlessly make it appear that this is how these songs were meant to be presented.

Excerpts from the lengthy (18 part, 22 minute) "Green Typewriters" make brief appearances in both tracks amidst snippets from "Memories of Jacqueline 1906" and "The Giant Day" ("Suite One") and "The Frosted Ambassador" and "The Princess Turns the Key to Cubist Castle ("Suite Two.") For the completist, there are also two sneeze-and-you-miss-them "previously unreleased" segues ("songs" is too strong a term for them), "Outer Themes" and "Looking for Meaning." The upshot is that these tracks are presented more as a medley of what the Olivias were up to at the time (which hasn't really changed all that much in the ensuing years) and is a nice, inexpensive introduction to folks who've heard the name and wondered what all the fuss was about. For the rest of us, unless you're a completist (as I know many of you are), you may want to pass this little curio up as just that: nice to have, but not essential.

I can't leave, however, until I've addressed that "hidden track" I alluded to earlier. Giving new meaning to that overused marketing ploy, this has got to be the most HIDDEN "hidden track" it's ever been my (dis)pleasure to (not) hear. Let me 'splain, Lucy. Remember when you were back in high school taking one of those hearing tests where they locked you in a sound proof booth and made you press a button on this little handheld gizmo whenever you thought you heard a sound! Well, if the Olivia's want to start a lucrative sideline, they should market this track to all the high schools in America! Somewhere, I think, there are tiny little sounds emanating from my speakers which resemble people shuffling around the studio, tinkling on a piano or stroking a cello or violin. There may even be a guitar stroke or two. Well, I decided to stick around for the punchline, hoping maybe a "Hideaway" or some other great little pop gem might eventually start trickling out of my headphones. Unfortunately, no such luck. So, to save you the embarrassment of sitting through 14½ minutes of dead air, I'm here to tell you to get up and turn off the CD after track 3. You're not missing anything. In fact, you're missing (literally) nothing!

Methinks the boys shoulda just released this as a 3 track 7" EP instead of filling up 14 1/2 minutes with, er, filler.

As is: 5 out of 10
If the "hidden track" remained hidden: 7 out of 10.

[ Home ] [ Flashes From The Archives Of Oblivion ]